| Can see through my lullabies
|
| The prize, a letter
|
| And I can’t get out my door
|
| The bills, they come
|
| But I don’t care 'bout that
|
| And everybody’s asking me tonight
|
| Everybody’s asking me if I’m alright
|
| But I don’t have the guts to say
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| Is it really her with him?
|
| Do you think that they are doin' it?
|
| I’m lyin' in my empty bed
|
| Pretending that you’re dead
|
| I write the news from everybody’s lips
|
| I saw you on the walkway with his hands on your hips
|
| And I called it out, I said, «Is that my best friend»
|
| You said, «You should probably leave»
|
| Tonight, everybody’s asking me
|
| If I’m alright
|
| And I don’t have the words to sing
|
| Is it really her with him?
|
| Do you think that they are doin' it?
|
| I’m lyin' in my empty bed
|
| Pretending that you’re dead
|
| Is it really her with him?
|
| Do you think that they are doin' it?
|
| I’m lyin' in my empty bed
|
| Pretending that you’re dead
|
| Everybody’s asking me if I’m alright
|
| Everybody’s asking me if I’m alright
|
| I’m not alright |